


Poems by Fairweather

by swiftonthedownside



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, wolfstar, wow so its been a while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swiftonthedownside/pseuds/swiftonthedownside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re really changing, you know that?  But not necessarily for the worse.  You’re just…you’ve been sort of different, you know?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poems by Fairweather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wickedlupin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedlupin/gifts).



> To people reading for Wolfstar:  
> Welcome back.
> 
> To my curious Haikyuu!! readers:  
> Before Haikyuu!! I was really into Harry Potter and I still roleplay on a daily basis. Sirius and Remus (Wolfstar) used to be to me like KageHina is now. This fic is from back in those days. Which means it has a real title and is sappy gay.
> 
> I promise to update one of the chapter fics tonight my friend was just complaining because this fic wasn't on ao3.

The sun was very far away, Sirius noticed. Even coming on through the window at a direct angle with but one tree tall enough to be in the way, it wasn’t as bright as he had expected. For one thing, he wasn’t blind. That the sun was not blinding him was, in and of itself, a surprise.

But the fact that Remus wasn’t blinding him was almost more surprising. The sun might be very far away, but it turned every single one of Remus’s hairs into a sliver of sunlight all their own, glittering as he moved his head, following his quill across the paper. Sirius just stared at the sight, slowly falling asleep.

It was the slowest afternoon he could ever remember. Remus had called it positively lovely. Mid-October had turned everything outside all brown and red and it was beginning to get a little too cold for Sirius’s taste. And so somehow, Remus had convinced him to accompany him to the library.

He wasn’t exactly sure why it was that he’d come. All he’d done the whole time was sit with his chin on his arms, leaning onto the table as he watched Remus write his never-ending essays. The library was putting him to sleep. It was too warm, and too quiet, and too brown, and too booky. He could _feel_ the books. It was like the paper emanated certain warmth of its own, pulling his eyelids down as the sun sank slowly lower.

“Padfoot.”

“Hm?” He almost hadn’t heard Remus, he’d been whispering so quietly. He pulled his eyes open to look at him.

Remus quirked a brow at him. “What’re you doing?”

“Sleeping.” He was whispering too, he noted, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Why?”

“Because, Remus,” Sirius sighed, tilting his head on one side. “It’s Saturday. We’re in the library. And we’re not doing anything.”

Remus dipped his quill in his ink again, returning to his essay. “Why did you come with me?”

“Because I like you, Moony. And James is with Evans all day today.”

“Envy him of his pretty date?”

“I’ve got a pretty date.”

Remus just kept writing his essay, and Sirius sighed, turning to squint against the sun out the window. He hadn’t thought about it before, but now he could distinctly hear the scritching of Remus’s quill. And it just made everything more unbearably drowsy.

“What class’re you writing that for?” he asked, trying to keep himself awake.

“Muggle Studies.”

“What’s it about?”

“Well, we’re going over classic literature, namely that written by Muggles. So it’s a report over some poetry.”

Sirius rolled his eyes internally. Poetry. “Oh is it?”

“Yes, and I can hear the condescension in your voice.”

Sirius turned his head back over to look at Remus, going back to watching his hair shine and listening to the quill scratch across the paper. He spent several minutes like that, staring blankly at Remus and thinking about warm and fuzzy and sleep. Mmm, sleep.

“What poem?” he finally asked, a final resistance. If they stayed much longer after that point, he’d surely be gone. “Which one are you writing about?”

“I don’t mean to be rude, Padfoot, but I’m positive you’ve never heard it. It’s a lesser-known Fairweather bit.”

“Well then tell it to me.”

Remus sighed, looking at him for a second, before his eyebrows knit together thoughtfully. He stared off past Sirius. “Um… ‘Meet me where the trees have grown, beyond the boundaries blue. Where seldom were our thoughts our own, where I would stay with you. Where we believed the gods would weep upon our broken souls, and lions would defend our rest beneath a holy knoll.’”

The sun ducked beneath the trees, and the very tips of the light bounced over branches in impossible directions, shooting through the window and hitting Remus right in the face. The boy flinched at the sudden light, and Sirius was sure he’d never see anything like it again.

Remus rubbed his eyes. “It’s uh…j-just one stanza of the poem…”

Sirius nodded. “It was nice. I’ll have to look up this Fairweather fellow.”

“Sirius, there’s no way you’ll ever find him in _this_ library, he was a _Muggle_. And I think we both know that you will never find the personal time to go and find him in a regular library or bookstore. The only chance you have of reading his works is to get them from me as gifts, and you hate it when I get you books for Christmas. Sirius?”

Sirius didn’t respond, and Remus sighed, shaking his head fondly at him. “Right. You just sleep there, then. I’ll wake you up when I’m leaving.”

He stared at Sirius a moment longer, half expecting a response, before turning back to his essay as the sunlight slowly faded from the library.

~

It was a very quiet day in the dorm. It was the sort of day where no matter who you are, you sit still. You don’t have to be doing anything in particular. You can read, or work on some homework, or write a letter to your dear mother and inform her that yes, you’re still friends with the three hooligans and no, you still don’t know why. Or you could simply not do anything, and enjoy the world for its simple things, its quiet things, and think about how mortal you are and yet how eternal.

That was precisely what the four Marauders were doing. Peter was jotting down his words in his cramped little script, James drawing out his letters as long as he could to fill the ten inches he needed. Sirius had originally been bugging James, who shoved him off. He then migrated to Remus, who handed him a book and said he could stay if he was quiet. So Sirius was curled up by Remus’s legs with the book three inches from his face, while Remus leaned back against the headboard and stared at the ceiling aimlessly. It was, as I’ve said, a very quiet day in the dorm.

James was measuring his essay for the sixth time that day when Peter finally stood, quietly announced he was going to the owlery, and left. They all took the chance to utterly ignore him.

“Remus,” Sirius said softly. “Can I hold onto this book?”

Remus pulled himself from his reverie, and frowned at Sirius. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because I like it and I don’t know what you’re going to do with it.”

“What do you mean? I’m going to read it!”

“You _burned_ The Great Gatsby, and that was _Lily’s_ book, not mine.”

“Well, I’m going to read this book. I like it.”

Remus and James looked at each other, and James stood, giving Remus a ‘It’s your problem bye’ look before leaving the dorm. Remus sighed, looking over at Sirius.

“I guess you can keep it, then…”

“Okay.”

Still suspicious, Remus folded his hands together. “So. Who’s the main character?”

“Alan Rudyard. He’s the mayor of-”

“Alright, alright, enough on him. Another character.”

“Well, there’s Gretel, the wealthy girl staying in the local inn, and her father’s a member of some kind of company-”

“Alright, okay. Another.”

“Beatrice Falls, of course, though I must say that I find her love of fine music rather faked-”

“Alright, stop. Now the hard question.” Sirius sat up a bit, looking at him. “Where do Alan and Beatrice get married?”

Sirius looked horrified. “Oh, _Moony_ , he marries _Beatrice_?”

“Oh, sorry!” Sirius moaned, flopping into Remus’s pillows.

“My whole life is ruined and it’s your fault.”

“I didn’t ruin your life! Just keep reading!”

“I’ve lost the drive! How can I go on knowing he marries that _bitch_.”

Remus laughed at him, and Sirius rolled over with a sigh. “Spoilers, Moony.”

“I’m truly sorry.”

He shifted up, settling in by Remus in closing the book. He inspected the cover. “Do you have any more books by this guy?”

“A few. Why?”

“I like him. I want to read more.”

“Finish that one first.”

“I can’t. I know how it ends.”

Remus rolled his eyes, and they sat quietly for a moment. They stared across the room in different directions, Remus’s fingers resting lightly on Sirius’s leg. The room slowly took on a dark, blue-ish tint, and it went from warm and brown to brisk and pale.

“We’re going to be very late for dinner,” Sirius eventually said. Remus jumped a little, pulling his hand back to himself and looking over at Sirius.

“Right. We should go.”

They found their shoes, pulling them hastily on before heading out the door and down the stairs, leaving the book on the bed in the empty dormitory.

~

Sirius wasn’t exactly much of one for poetry or romance. When he did take interest in those things, it was generally just for ironic or flirtatious purposes. Just enough memorization time to remember it for his smooth move onto the girl of his choice. Generally he would solicit help from Remus or steal his books and find the sappiest poem he could manage. So when people saw him walking around with a slim book of poems by Fairweather, it wasn’t necessarily something that was uncommon.

This, however, does not mean it wasn’t a big deal.

Every single time he stopped a girl to ask her for the time or if she could recall the homework, the entire hallway stopped to see if _she_ was the one he’d been learning poetry for, to see just _which_ poem it was and just _how_ much the girl would blush this time. The girls would always turn to him expectantly, hold their notebooks just right for the dropping, hitch one leg up _juuuuuuuust_ a little, and bat their eyelashes. To be perfectly honest, it was all starting to weird him out, because he couldn’t figure out why they were doing it.

Needless to say, everyone was left very disappointed, and when two weeks passed without a single move being made half the school let it drop and the other half became more persistent in figuring out the plan. Even the Marauders were split between the two sides.

Peter of course, had let it drop, because Peter was perfectly sensible and had decided that Sirius’s business was Sirius’s business. Remus had mostly followed suit. It was James who could not let the subject drop, but could not get anything out of Sirius. And so he tried a different approach. Remus.

November second, 1976, was exactly the perfect day for Remus to make his investigations. He had not wanted to investigate. If James had promised even one ounce of chocolate less, he probably would have refused. But who was he to turn down enough to last him three months? No, a bit of snooping was worth it.

If he was going to do any snooping, which he most certainly was not. He’d just tell James he never got anything out of him. He smiled. James would never be the wiser. It was perfect.

And it was truly a perfect day. The Common Room was absolutely empty. It was nearly warm and so the house elves had thrown open the windows early on in the morning. James had another date with Lily, Peter had gone with Frank and Donovan to a special Quidditch-oriented event down in Hogsmeade, and for all you could tell the entirety of Gryffindor House or even the entire castle had gone with them. It was really one of the most peaceful days of the year thus far.

Remus glanced away from his book to look at Sirius. The other boy was leaning against his legs, stretching his own out to the center of the Common Room. He was holding his little book of Fairweather about four inches from his nose. Remus tilted his head to one side, looking down at him.

“Sirius.”

“Yes?”

“Do you really like that?”

He frowned up at him. “What do you mean? Of course I like it. The poems are…well, they’re the first ones I’ve ever read, but they’re sort of quaint.”

“They’re not the first ones you’ve read. In fourth year you memorized Byron for Rebecca. Don’t you remember?”

“Well yeah, but that was reading and this is _reading_.”

Remus sighed, pulling his legs up beside him on the couch. “You’re really changing, you know that? But not necessarily for the worse. You’re just…you’ve been sort of different, you know?”

“I guess I haven’t noticed much.”

“You don’t prank so much these days.”

“No.”

“And you make less trouble in class.”

“That’s right.”

“And you're _reading_ reading something.”

He looked back at Remus. “I can’t tell if you think it’s good or bad, Remus.”

“Well, I’m not sure I think it’s either. It’s just different.”

Sirius tapped his fingers against the spine of the book. “I’ve been spending more time with you,” he observed neutrally.

Remus nodded. “Yes.”

They were quiet a moment, and the wind blew lightly through the Common Room, rustling their hair a little. Remus reached down to smooth Sirius’s back in place, and Sirius leaned his head back to smile at him.

“Do you have a favorite, yet?” Remus asked. “Poem by Fairweather?”

“There are a lot of them.”

“Well, there must be one that stands out if you like him so much.”

Sirius looked at the book thoughtfully. “I’m not sure if I can remember…hold on…” He shifted, sitting up more as he flipped through the book to find the poem. “Right, here it is… ‘Come away at the call of the fountain’s song, when the world spins on days that are far too long. When the hour is late and the wolf is awake, and he prowls the surface of a moon’s frozen lake. And he slipping, he’s slipping, we can’t let him fall, because sometimes the wolf means my world after all.’”

It was quiet a moment. “I like that one too.”

Sirius nodded. “I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be about for him but it’s…uh, I mean…”

There was yet another moment of still silence, and Remus looked at Sirius throughout it. Why. Why not. He grabbed Sirius’s face, ducking his own down a bit to pull their lips together, kissing him as best he could on such short notice. Sirius caught himself against the edge of the couch, shifting up and closer to Remus in the 0.4 seconds he had before he couldn’t think any more.

They pulled apart a moment later, and looked at each other. “Do you want to sit with me?” Remus finally asked.

Sirius nodded, grabbing his book before moving up to sit with Remus on the couch. They settled in by each other, and the silence stretched on through the perfect afternoon as the two read their poems by Fairweather.


End file.
